Here's to the End

He soars as a kite, anchored by a single stretch of string which holds him to a soul desire. But when tether snaps— departs the world, losing all he does not care to lose.

And with the passing days we beat ourselves as we beat them: fighting, too stubborn to lean from our ground. Anger boiling in our blood, we spit venom and ice to pierce the hearts that love us.

Then, as time goes on, she holds the inconsistent flame— watches as it dies again— she forgets the passing spark, for it has gone with yesterday. And now laments her candle, she threatens to smother its faintest glow;

With not a single sound— They, the young, who play with fire And gamble only to lose it.

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